Ruin
by Delgodess
Summary: In which the Commander almost Falls and the Assassin loses her Light. Oneshot. Revised.


**Disclaimer: Oblivion and its characters belong to Bethesda.**

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Commander Giovanni Civello rushed towards the prison, plated feet making surprisingly little noise on the stone bridge as he strode purposely across it. The guards at the gate saluted and hastily opened the thick iron doors so he could pass. He nodded towards them, swiftly entering and navigating the halls with practiced ease. Somewhere, with in the depths of the interrogation chambers, was an individual that he had been trying for years to get a hold of. For his predecessor, it had been decades. Finally, they had captured and subdued a member of the Dark Brotherhood.

Civello shivered in anticipation, grimly satisfied that his mentor's death would finally be repaid. He would show no mercy. He would be the interrogator and nothing would stop him from making that murder talk. He pushed open a wooden door, eyes alighting on the Head Interrogator.

The man's skin was a sickly white, long thin fingers cleaning a sharp scalpel with a yellowed rag. His black clothes hid the blood stains well but did little to hide the red streaks on his hands and arms. He looked up, sharp eyes running quickly over Civello's face and armor, before meticulously placing the scalpel next to the rest of his neatly placed tools. He stood and nodding to the Commander, pulled the key ring from his belt and opened a series of locks on the small, iron door behind him.

The smell of blood, vomit and refuse was nearly overpowering, but the Commander and Head Interrogator paid it no mind. They each took a torch and Civello followed the sickly man as he lead the way down the thin passage. It was dark, save for the occasional lamp, the rough stone walls lined with doors. Most of them were empty, some were not.

They came to an intersection and the Interrogator turned right, plunging into an almost completely black hall way. At the far end was a large steel door, locks and bolts crisscrossing it. The Head Interrogator moved forward, calmly unlocking the locks before suddenly speaking.

"She is a tough one."

He glanced over at the Commander, his rough voice grating harshly in the silence.

Civello tilted his head questioningly.

"She?"

The Interrogator nodded seriously then pulled the door open. It groaned as it swung, revealing it's dark interior. The older man went inside and began lighting the torches placed on the walls of the round room. Civello placed his own in an empty slot by the door and stepped past the threshold.

In the center of the room stood a tall wooden chair, it's back facing the door. Civello could see the prisoner's arms pulled and held tightly back by chains tied to the ground behind the it. The Head Interrogator shuffled past and stopped when he reached the exit.

"I'll be back for you in an hour." He rasped out, before shutting the cell door firmly behind him and putting the locks back.

Civello eyed the back of the chair coldly, taking in the blood stains and the large nails bolting it in place. His hands clenched and then relaxed. Finally, he was going to meet one of the fabled Dark Assassins face to face.

He paced closer, noting the prisoner's limp posture and bloody, dark clothing. He was surprised at the lack of armor, but quickly put it out of his mind. It would have been removed anyway. He circled in front and crossed his arms. The prisoner was slumped forward, head hanging and dirty brown hair falling over her face. Her legs were chained to the chair so tightly that the Commander new they had to have bruises.

"I have waited a long time to meet one of you."

He paused, then continued.

"You know of my mentor, Adamus Phillida? " He asked softly, waiting for the prisoner to reply.

The figure in the chair nodded.

"Then you know that I am going to kill you." He unfolded his arms and moved closer.

"But not before you tell me everything you know."

The prisoner said nothing.

Suddenly angry, Civello snapped a hand out and grabbed a hold of her hair.

"Look at me when I am talking to you!" He demanded, yanking her head up.

His eyes widened and he pulled back as if burned.

"Rowena?" He whispered, stunned.

"Don't call me that." Bright blue eyes stabbed into his. He stepped back.

"W-what?"

"That is not my name." The prisoner, no, _his_ _Rowena_, said flatly.

"Rowena, why are you here? Where is the prisoner?" He started towards the door.

"I will get you out of this place immediately."

Her musical voice stopped him.

"Commander Giovanni," she said formally.

When he turned to her, her beautiful eyes were hard.

"My name is Ruin."

Denial colored his face.

"No. It can't be."

"Yes, Commander. It is."

"Why…But…"

Bewildered, Civello crossed his clenched hands behind his back and began to pace.

"That would mean that you are part of the Dark Botherhood. Which is ridiculous."

His breathing began to slow and his raging emotions began to calm. He composed himself, burying his emotions and vowing to face this like the Commander he was. He turned her and crossed his arms.

"Explain."

She nodded gracefully, back straitening and face adopting a serene expression. If her hands weren't tied, he was sure she would have folded them in her lap like the noble woman she was.

His eyes narrowed; like the noble woman she claimed to be.

He leaned against the cold stone wall behind him, watching her expressive face closely as her eyes glazed and her once smiling lips parted.

"Sanguine. The color of Night. Ironic really." She smiled bitterly.

"For followers who covet murder and pain, the Dark Brotherhood have no real concept of what Night is. It is just as much silver words and midnight kisses as it is twisting daggers in the Darkness."

She blinked and the stupor she seemed to be in faded. Her usually pristine chocolate hair fell across her face and Civello fought the urge to brush it away. She huffed in annoyance before flipping it back. Her face now bared to him, he nearly flinched at the tired bags beneath her eyes and the flowering bruises covering her face. Were those markings on her neck _finger prints_? His gray eyes jolted back to hers when she began to speak again.

"I wasn't always like this you know. I didn't start this way. We never do. We all begin as stupid, naive little fools. Even if we are obliviously happy little fools. Pity it takes so little for that to change. A slip of the tongue, a twist of the wrist, a bat of an eye lash and it's done. That's how quick it is. That's how quickly your life can be shattered. It happened to me and it can happen to you."

She glanced up, hearing his sound of disbelief.

"What? You think that you are different? That you are better than me? Do not patronize me! There are scars on my body and soul far deeper than your pathetic self-rightfulness."

Her eyes watched him coolly, normally calm features twisted in fury. Civello was taken aback by the display. The woman he knew had never lashed out at him like this. But then, how well did he know her really? Still, it hurt him to see her in this state. He shouldn't have said anything. He renewed his crumbling resolve to stay emotionally detached from this…this… whatever it was. He looked up, noticing that she had calmed.

"There was a girl once. A happy little nobody, living out her life in a small farming village just off the western border. She was a pleasant law abiding individual who enjoyed the simple things in life."

Civello scoffed, bringing his hand up to cover it as a cough. She ignored him and carried on. He watched as she tried to shift in the hard wooden chair, obviously uncomfortable. His gaze trailed down to her hands, once soft and warm, now raw and bleeding; the thick metal digging into her tender flesh. He felt a pang at their sorry state but shook his head and drew his eyes back to her face.

"She loved to spend time with her friends after long hours in the fields, so on one particular evening she went with them to the local tavern. She was disappointed when she arrived, because a local group of lord lings had decided to celebrate a birthday with the common people. Meaning the people who couldn't do anything to fight back."

His lip curled in contempt, knowing exactly the type she was taking about. He remembered the days when _he_ was the one dragging spoiled young lords home. It was not a pleasant experience. She was still taking, and Civello couldn't help but let her. Rowena had never told him of her past and if she was willing to talk, he was not going to stop her. Besides, he could always ask his questions later. Or so he told himself.

"As the night grew older, the lord lings become louder and more rambunctious. They were becoming drunk and crude. Some were even getting a little violent. It was nothing new, so she just ignored it. One of her friends, a bit tipsy herself, went over to them. After a while one of the men asked for a "favor" and she agreed. This is not uncommon either. Most girls were happy to give "favors" to the handsome, rich young men."

She was not looking at him. Why was she not looking at him? Civello's brow furrowed and his hands tightened around his arms. Her hands were gripping the iron chains tightly, knuckles turning white as she continued in a lost, hollow, voice.

"It was late and she was tired. She had to wake early the next day and the group across from hers was becoming too much for her. She decided to leave, but as she stood to go one of the young men stopped her. Predicatively he asked for a "favor". She politely declined. He persisted saying that he has been watching her all night and thought that she could use some company. Again she declined and she headed for the door. As she exited, she cast a glance at his face. He was not happy. She shrugged it off and continued home."

Civello's mouth was dry. The way she seemed to distance herself…He sprang from the wall, horror filling his eyes. She nodded knowingly, seeming to cast _him_ a look of pity as she continued manner of factly.

"Where am I going with this, you ask? I think you know. I can see it in your eyes. She traveled down the moon lit path, too tired to realize how quiet the night had become. By the time she realized she was in danger, they were already upon her."

She paused, composing herself, before pulling herself up to her full height. When she looked at him and when she spoke, it was in an airy, nonchalant voice.

"Tell me… do you know what it feels like to be gang raped?"

Civello winced, his worst fears confirmed. He leaned against the wall, covering his eyes with the back of his hand as he listened.

"I know you have heard the stories; have seen the victims. You have seen the way they flinch at physical contact, the way their bodies sag in defeat and how they watch the world with hollow, jaded eyes. They are traumatized, empty and broken." She swallowed, then whispered:

"Ruined."

She was shaking. Civello could hear her harsh breaths and when he removed his hand he found tears glittering in her eyes.

"Imagine this act happening to you. Imagine your helplessness and despair. Can you hear their laughter? Can you see their malicious faces, turned up in lustful grins?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath and opened her mouth again, quickly swiping her tongue over her cracked lips. Civello noticed, and swallowed thickly, reprimanding himself for focusing on such an action when she was obviously distressed. He let his head fall back, hitting the stone with a dull thunk as he wondered why it even mattered.

"The moon was full and bright. She recognized them as the lord lings from the tavern. And as the leader held her down she knew that _this_ was the one she had refused. Distantly, she recalled that it was _his_ birthday they had been celebrating. Where were the guards; the patrolmen? She screamed for help, for anyone to save her but no one came. When they finished with her and she lay sobbing silently at their feet, they laughed drunkenly, kicking her abused body and spiting on her as they each turned towards home."

Civello closed his eyes again and wished that there was some way for him to close his ears; just so he won't have to hear the pain-filled words dripping from her mouth.

"She thought of telling someone, of receiving justice for what was done to her, but in a sudden moment of clarity she realized that there would be no such thing. They were nobility and she…she was nothing. Even if there had been guards…would they have done anything? The horror of this unfairness was enough to stop her breath."

She was right. It wasn't _fair_. But as Civello contemplated the curve of her shoulder, he found himself conflicted. She was so beautiful… so devastatingly beautiful… but she had _lied_ to him… _used_ him…

"Something in her snapped as her body began to shake; not with sobs but with anger. The fury she felt was the likes of which she has never felt before. It consumed her, igniting in her blood and filming over her eyes. The rest of the night was a blur of crimson and silver. When she woke, she was in a prison cell, covered in blood. The prisoner across from her cheerfully told her that she was in for life; if she could last until morning that is. He _smiled_ as he told her how she had _stalked_ _and_ _murdered_ five young noble men in a most gruesome manner. And when he began to laugh insanely, she knew it was because he was amused that she had done it _all_ in one night."

She turnedher face away, biting her lip and crying silently. Civello shifted uncomfortably, unable to help but feel that this is less of an interrogation and more of a confession. He had almost lost his resolve, and it took everything in him not to hold her. He wanted to comfort her but closed his eyes instead. Maybe if he couldn't see her he could remain stoic. He was the Commander of the Imperial Legion! And she had just confessed to murder…but…_oh Rowena_…

"Can you comprehend the whirl of emotions that would be raging through this girl? No. You cannot. You cannot fathom something like this happening to you. But it has happened. It has happened to _me_."

His eyes snapped open at the coldness in her voice, and he felt a shiver go through his body. Her beautiful blue eyes cut into his.

"You ask me how I could do this, how I could lie to you. The answer is simple: _It was never about you_. Is it really a betrayal of your trust is if I had always meant to exploit it? I am an Assassin of the Dark Brotherhood. No, do not turn away. Look At Me."

His jaw clenched and he looked at her, _really_ looked at her. Her next words filled his veins with ice and he moved before he was even consciously aware of it.

"_I_ killed Adamus Phillida and it was _I _who left his finger in your desk."

She casually glanced down at the blade embedded in the wood by her neck, and opened her wonderfully treacherous lips mockingly. It _infuriated_ him.

"My, if your sword had sunk one inch deeper into the wood you would have surly killed me. Now look what you've done; my neck will scar and this blouse was new."

He was moving again, ripping his sword out and wrapping his hands around her already marked neck. Warm liquid seeped through his fingers but he found that he unable to squeeze.

"Careful, if you cause me any permanent harm I won't be able to help you, now will I?"

Her voice was full of promises, just like the night when he first kissed her.

He ground his teeth and pulled back. She smiled wickedly then began again, and for the first time, Civello realized that the woman in front of him was someone he had never known.

"Where was I? Oh yes. It doesn't matter how I escaped or how the Dark Brotherhood found me; just that I was found. They took me in, healed my broken mind and body, and gave me purpose again. They became my family."

She cocked her head and eyed him inquisitively.

"Do you know why they sent me to infiltrate your life and gain your trust, Civello?" She asked, his name rolling off her tongue like a caress.

"I am different from the rest because I do not enjoy killing." She paused thoughtfully. "Strange, is it not? An Assassin who does not revel in death."

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms defiantly. She sighed, as if speaking to a child.

"You do not believe me, that is no surprise. Remember the story I told you? How I couldn't remember that night? I still can't. I have murdered forty-nine people within the last three years and I can't remember a single one. That's how I was able to become close to you."

She laughed, her voice echoing in the hollow room.

"What better way than to send someone who does not have death in their eyes? Who's manner and appearance speaks only of innocence and trust. You fell because you could not help yourself. Just as was planned."

She stopped, watching him closely for a reaction. When he gave her none, she shrugged, turning her face away and slumping once again in her seat. It was obvious to Civello that Rowena, no, _Ruin_, was finished. He took a deep breath of the putrid air, clearing his head and letting is emotions wither and die. His actions were…unbecoming of the Commander.

He silently thanked the Divines that no one was there to see his outburst. Slowly, Civello ran his eyes up her body, locking the image in his mind forever. This was how he would remember her. A prisoner tried for murder. There was a knock at that door before the sound of turning locks was heard. Civello glanced down at the prisoner one last time before straitening and heading towards the exit. She called out to him and he paused, his hand raised to knock back.

"Civello…" Her voice was soft, hash mocking tones gone now.

"If… if you had saved me…" Why had her breath hitched?

"I think… I think I would have loved you."

Civello closed his eyes, memories of her surfacing in his mind. He swallowed thickly and forced them back. His hard orbs opened and he knocked firmly on the cell door. It creaked ajar slowly, revealing the Interrogator, who stood waiting. The old man walked in, dousing the torches, before leading the Commander out. It might have been his mind playing a painful trick on him, but Civello swore he heard her speak one last time.

"You… were my Light in the Darkness."

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Commander Giovanni Civello had yet to leave his office. He sat silently at his desk, absently fingering something in his pocket before pulling it out and rolling it in his hand. His eyes stared off into the distance, completely ignoring the soldier behind him as he franticly explained the situation.

He knew she had gone before the warning bells began to toll, before the yelling and stomping of feet sounded and before this ragged, sorry excuse for a soldier stumbled into his office.

He knew what he looked like; armor disheveled, eyes red and hair sticking out from all his pulling. He was a wreck.

"Your orders, Sir?" The soldier asked for the third time.

But…He was still the Commander.

He sighed, staring at the object in his hand sorrowfully.

"Ready my horse and prepare a search party. The prisoner could not have gotten far."

The soldier saluted smartly before rushing off. Civello sighed once more before gently placing the small object on his desk. He rose, putting on his helmet and striding resolutely to the door and out into the crisp morning air.

The sun was just peaking over the horizon, its soft light traveling through the open door way and washing the office in a warm glow. The light spread and reflected, glinting brightly off the beautiful diamond engagement ring left on the desk.

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**AN: So I was going through my story folders on my computer and I found a document named "Oblivion 4". After first thinking: What kind of _idiot_ names a story "Oblivion 4", and remembering that this was _my_ computer so I had to be the idiot, I promptly opened it up. And I found this! Sort of. I read it and was suckered into finishing it.**

**At the time I started it, I was playing Oblivion and doing the Dark Brotherhood quest line. And I got to thinking... if the Dark Brotherhood was really real, wouldn't they occasionally have long term contracts? And wasn't Adamus Phillida the mentor of Giovanni Civello? So it would make sense if he was just as much a thorn in the Dark Brotherhood's side as his predecessor. So what better way to get rid of him than to have someone close to him kill him? But there was one problem. They didn't count on the assassin falling in love with the target. And vise versa. It was a love that would just never work, what with him being all good-two-shoes and hating the Brotherhood and all. It also kinda explains his insane resolve to wipe the Dark Brotherhood off the Planet and why we only have one Sanctuary left in all of Skyrim. I think.**

**And FYI: It's still a work in progress. It was originally written in second person, so editing it has been difficult and I have missed things. I'll continue to smooth it out. **

**Any who, please review! I like to know what I can do to get better!**

**~Delgodess**


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